Gifts
by Mrs Bella Riddle
Summary: Bellatrix Lestrange detested Valentine's Day. There were only two ways she could enjoy it. B/V


I present Valentine's Day the Bellamort way! There is only one way for it to be done. Inspired by a challenge from Gamma Orionis that it could not be done.

Enjoy :)

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The fourteenth of February had always been just another day to Bellatrix Lestrange, though it was not to say she did not recognise it as Valentine Day. It was unavoidable not to. When she was a teenager, the other girls in her dormitory and, even her own sister, had expressed delight at the holiday. If they were single they would wax and wane and, when they had a boy trailing behind them, they would be enthusiastic about the gifts their boyfriend had bestowed on them.

Bellatrix loathed admitting the boys were not much better.

Some saw it as a time to start becoming secret admirers. She had found it funny in her first year, until it continued for many years after. In the end, she had burned every card in view of everyone in the Common Room. If boys wanted to be cowards, she had no interest in them

It was different when she was in a relationship, but not by much.

While sometimes she did like the presents, she hated the presumptions. When her current boyfriends had presented her with gifts, there would always have been looks of expectation waiting for their own gift, or worse. After slapping several boys at the prospect that because she had been given a bunch of useless flowers they could get under her skirt, she scorned the holiday and went so far as to swear she would not sleep with anyone on that day.

Admittedly its effectiveness and her commitment to that effort were questionable, but she swore she would stick to it.

When marriage came along, her frustration with the holiday continued.

For the many ways she could criticise Rodolphus, he was at least normally logical and sensible when it came to impressing her. He usually knew that romance and anything of that sort had her seething and sneering. She had no interest in that type of thing whatsoever. It would have been like their marriage actually meant something.

Rodolphus was normally good at sticking to what she thought, until Valentine's Day. Their first Valentine's Day together as husband and wife, he had brought her a large bouquet of flowers, a diamond necklace and made a booking for one of the most lavish restaurants in Diagon Alley. She had laughed at all his efforts. She had thrown the flowers at his face, refused to go to the restaurant; though she had worn the necklace (it actually was very beautiful).

The next year she thought the ordeal was over.

She was wrong.

Maybe he had thought she sounded interest in Narcissa's tales of the day or maybe he thought there had been some invisible change in a year, either way, he had made a fatal mistake again. He had given her one perfect rose, a set of earrings and arranged for a romantic dinner at home. This time she had thrown the rose out the window, ruined the table he had set with a curse and even thrown the earrings in the fireplace (she had not wanted him to get any ideas for the next year).

However, as the dates ticked over to the current year, Bellatrix was still apprehensive she would have to fight off another foolish attempt by Rodolphus. She refused to have her marriage pegged down by such a useless holiday and to make it seem like it was something it was not.

So, on that faithful day, Bellatrix had slept in to avoid seeing her husband before he left for work and had savoured her time alone while he was at the Ministry. Though, the whole time, she waited and cursed Rodolphus and the unavoidable. She did not think about her own irrationality, only that she was firm on her view and she would be furious to find her views disregarded again.

Her eyes flicked up to the clock above the mantel piece and scowled. Nearly five o'clock; Rodolphus would be home soon. Just when she was about to return to her venomous musings, something rocked through all her thoughts.

There was only one thing that could improve Bella's day.

Strangely that thing materialised.

With a gasp of surprise, more so then of pain, her left forearm burned. Immediately she flipped over her wrist to find her mark staring at her alive and calling. She did not bother disguising the whoop of glee as she leaped to her feet and darted as fast as she could to the apparation point.

All thoughts of the holiday were forgotten.

With a loud crack, Bellatrix strode up the path to her Lord's home unable to stop the smile from gracing her attractive features. She had tried in the past, but it had always proved a useless exercise.

It should not matter. She should not hide anything from the Dark Lord.

The entrance corridor was empty when she entered, but she already had her guide. Her mark throbbed as she moved. It led her on past the first staircase and down the stairs to the cellar.

As soon as she entered, she found what she sought. Her Lord was standing with his usual unyielding poise with his back to the wall and his dark blood shot eyes focused on her. She did not need to be told. On pure instinct, she fell to her knees and crawled to place as many kisses as she could on the tendrils of the hem of his robes.

"Rise, Bella," he said softly, but she swore she could sense something almost akin to merriment as she found her feet. "Look what I have here."

It was a mark of her obsession with the Dark Lord that she had not noticed the other figure before. Hands shackled to the wall and stripped of all his clothes, a man shook and tried to maintain his composure as his wide eyes flicked from the Dark Lord to Bella.

She could not help herself but let out a short sound of glee. "Who is he, Master?" she asked with enthusiasm as she stepped closer to the man. She poked his leg with the toe of her boot rather like she was examining a wild animal.

"An employee from the Ministry," the Dark Lord said quietly as he drew up close beside her. It was a sign of his close proximity that her eyes left what she hoped was her future victim, to stare up at him. Her heart was pounding as a result of the two things that could bring her the most joy. "He works in the Department Magical Law Enforcement, a mudblood, but his foolish supervisors have granted him power and information."

She did not say anything, but nodded along with a crazy gleam intensifying in her eyes. Before he had even issued the command, she had extracted her wand.

Her Lord lent in closer so she could feel his cool breath on her ears. "Find that information for me."

She was too breathless from his close proximity and desire to comment, instead she just started to work.

For several hours, curse after curse escaped her wand and the mudblood in front of her shrieked, pleaded and cried. She was not daunted for a moment. She only worked away tirelessly. Though, she could not see it as work: She was enjoying it too much.

Her Lord never left the room. He stayed close by her side snarling questions at the mudblood. It was tiresome and long winded, yet, by the end, the information had been received, the mudblood was dead and both her and her Lord were covered in blood.

Crouched by the figure and looking up at her Lord, Bella pushed her hair behind her ears with bloody hands. "Dead, my Lord," she said with a smirk as if it was the most basic statement.

Her eyes lingered on the figure and, she was about to find her feet, before those desires quickly disappeared.

With her head twisted to him, her Lord crouched down beside her, his face expressionless. "You have blood on your neck," he said softly.

She could not reply. His mouth latched over the relevant area. Her words vanished to a series of moans as her Master's hands slipped underneath her robes. The only thing she could do was wither in his arms and rub herself back against him when she was surprised to find the evidence of his arousal pressed against her.

The torture must have impacted him the same way it had impacted her.

She never fought him and willing bent herself down on the cold dungeon floor as she moaned and cried out, almost as loud as the mudblood, when her Lord took her.

So, when she finally found her feet and tried to straighten her blood soaked robes with shaking hands, her face was lit in wider grin than had graced her features so far that day. She bowed low to her Lord and left to go home as he desired.

After, while she was settling into her bed beside a sleeping Rodolphus, the grin continued to linger. Her mind was filled with thoughts of that cellar. There was only one problem.

She could not decide what Valentines' Day Gift she preferred.


End file.
